Category: Spring 2015

During his study of the human psyche, Sigmund Freud concluded that it was divided into three separate parts: The Id, the Ego, and the Superego. It is quite common for these parts of the mind to come into conflict, and while it is often an internal struggle, we are able to observe these struggles through first person narration. In The Woman in White we are able to see this struggle through the compilation and narration of Walter Hartright.

On the first page of the novel, Walter prevails upon the reader to consider the tale he is telling as a judge might consider a case.  What he is trying to prove, we do not yet know, but we are led to believe that  he is endeavoring to provide the most accurate depiction of what occurred as possible.  Indeed, Walter says at the bottom of that first page,

Thus, the story here presented will be told by more than one pen….with the same object…to present the truth always in its most direct and most intelligible aspect; and to trace the course of one complete series of events. (Collins, 9)

This also suggests that the individuals Walter is including are to be considered reliable in their accounts of events.

By the conclusion of the novel, however, the validity of these opening lines is called into question.  At the end of the pages included of Marian’s diary is a “Postscript by a Sincere Friend” who on later pages we find out to be Count Fosco. The contents of Marian’s diary are extremely condemning to the Count and Sir Percival, so it is not outside of reason to assume that he potentially altered some of the contents of her writing, rendering it unreliable and thus unusable in the constraints of a court of law.  Also, Walter tells us as we near the end of the tale that he has changed all of the names of the individuals involved in the book to protect their privacy.  If he has changed one thing about the tale, is it not possible, or even probable, that he has changed more as well?

I believe that it is very likely that he did, and that the inclusion of the damning material are manifestations of his conflicting Ego and Superego.  When the Ego and Superego come into conflict, they battle over what is possibly attainable and whether it is right to attain it or not (Conflict Chart, The Victorian Web).  What we can assume Walter desires is the rights to Limmeridge house, and that he is providing this account as a means of acquiring it.  This is a manifestation of his Ego.  However, his Superego intervenes, knowing his claim is false, and that pretending it is not is wrong.  Thus, Walter’s Superego prompts him to include the information that would prove him false, because it is the right thing to do.

Now that we have reached the end of The Woman in White, I see Walter and Laura’s relationship in a completely different light.  At one point I found his sentimental asides about Laura to be tender and affectionate.  But upon taking another look, they seem more cringe-worthy than anything.  This passage in particular is a perfect example:

“Think of her as you thought of the first woman who quickened the pulses within you that the rest of her sex had no art to stir…Take her as a visionary nursling of your own fancy; and she will grow upon you, all the more clearly, as the living woman who dwells in mine” (52).

Laura Fairlie has been generalized.  Walter has molded her into this blank relatable figure in which everyone can use to reflect their own experiences.  As we have discussed as a class, Laura Fairlie, for her entire existence in novel, serves as an empty vessel in which characters see their own desires.  Walter does not change this.  In fact, he perpetuates it. She serves as a gateway to wealth and property for Sir Percival.  And for Walter she is no different.  The artist sees Laura as a blank canvas to paint and color however he pleases.

At one point, Walter describes “the water-colour drawing [he] made of Laura Fairlie” decorating his desk (51).  He describes her as a “light, youthful figure” whose “hair is so faint and a pale a brown—not flaxen, and yet almost as light; not golden, and yet almost as glossy—that is nearly melts here and there, into the shadow of the hat” (51).  The Laura that is being described to us isn’t Laura the person, but rather the Laura that Walter sees her as and wants her to be—Laura the decoration.  She is light, and faint.  Like her hair color, she is there but not quite.  She is even being described from a painting—Walter’s painting.  She is not real.

This excerpt is clearly written from after the events of the novel have occurred at an “after period” when Laura and Walter are married and living at Limmeridge, so why describe a painting of Laura when he could have looked at her actual person?  Because to Walter, she exists as an embodiment of the perfect wife—he doesn’t want to see her as a real person. Walter explicitly states in the main passage above that Laura “dwells” in his “fancy” (52).  The person he wants her to be exists in his imagination only.  The real Laura is repressed.

William Rathbone Greg argued adamantly for the marriage of all women.  His problem was with the “redundant woman”—the unmarried woman who could do what she wanted.  The redundant woman could earn money, forgo the “natural duties” of womanhood, and speak her mind.  Marriage was the solution.  Marriage tethered women to men, eradicated them of their own identity, and turned them into a reproductive machines.  Laura is Greg’s ideal married woman.  She has effectively been silenced and repressed by her marriage—reduced to a watercolor painting adorning her husband’s desk.

Originally published as a serialized story, The Woman in White was accompanied in some newspapers by illustrations depicting the action of the novel. Examining these illustrations can shed light on how these characters were viewed by Victorian readers—and, in addition, they bring Collins’ vibrant characters to life in a way that text alone cannot. A link to the illustrations can be found here.

While looking through the illustrations of The Woman in White, I noticed that Marian and Laura were portrayed as opposing figures in almost every illustration that featured either woman, or both together. In most of the illustrations, Marian wears dark dresses, while Laura wears white. When Marian and Laura are shown together at Limmeridge, Marian has a rigid, strong posture, while Laura either reclines or leans toward her, reflecting Laura’s reliance on Marian’s protection. However, in a scene depicting the sisters at Blackwater Park, the roles have shifted: Marian leans forward, while Laura stands defiantly tall behind her. Here, the illustrations track the exchange of strength between Laura and Marian seen over the course of the novel.

This pattern is especially apparent in the illustrations depicting Walter’s introductions to Marian and Laura. Both women are seen from Walter’s point of view; however, Marian faces away from Walter while Laura is seen in profile. As a result, we cannot see Marian’s face at all, while Laura’s face is full of expression. In addition, while the background to Marian’s portrait has an almost sketch-like appearance, Laura’s background is richly illustrated. These images, which mimic the narration of the novel in meticulous detail, are crafted to reinforce each woman’s role in her society. Laura fits beautifully into her illustration, completing the picture of purity and innocence as she gazes heavenward with an almost angelic quality. Marian, on the other hand, appears to be sketched almost as an afterthought. The fact that she is turned away prevents the viewer from seeing the most unique physical attribute of Marian Halcombe—her strong facial features. Instead, she fades into a rather unremarkable background, just as unmarried women were marginalized in the Victorian era without any social standing.

Marian’s comment on how Walter and Laura’s children will speak for her made me think of the differences between how the children from illegitimate marriages and the children from legitimate marriages are portrayed in the novel. While it seems that the children of Laura and Walter are going to grow up in a strong and happy marriage, and become the new voice of a new generation, the children that were born outside of marriage – Anne and Percival –both end up in the grave.

Marian’s comments that the children will “speak for [her]” in “their language” (Collins 621) suggests that the children will be a part of a new generation that will speak of her struggles as a woman in the Victorian society. The strength and intelligence that she has shown throughout the novel will then be a part of what the children will inherit from her. Since Marian remained an unmarried woman, the children that will “speak for her” then suggests further that Collins considered it to be a woman’s right to remain unmarried if she so wished it. The children are therefore portrayed to become advocates for radical movements in the society. Additionally, Walter junior is at the end of the story revealed to be the new heir of Limmeridge House, further showing that he has a bright future ahead of him.

However, Anne and Percival’s fates fare for the worse than the children of Walter and Laura. They were both born outside of marriage, as Anne was a result of an affair Laura’s father had, and Percival’s parents were unable to be legally married. Both Anne and Percival are portrayed to have something “wrong” with them: While Anne is described to be mentally handicapped, Percival is throughout the novel depicted to be the villain of the story, along with Count Fosco. Additionally, they both die at the end of the novel: Anne’s tombstone hardly gets a description, compared to the fake tombstone of Laura’s, and there is not even a mention of a funeral for Percival.

The Victorian society was, at this time, concerned with the single women like Marian. Like Greg’s article demonstrates, many men worried about “women, more or less well educated…[retire] to a lonely and destitute old age…they have nothing to do, and none to love, cherish and obey” (Greg 159). I therefore wonder why Collins chose to protest against this idea of women in the novel, but still portrayed children from illegitimate marriages as either challenged or evil, and doom them both to death. As Walter and Laura got married at the end of the novel, it suggests that Collins’ solution for a successful family is marriage, but not love, as Percival’s parents did love each other, but had to remain unmarried. I am therefore left wondering why an author would protest against the ideas that Greg demonstrate in his article, but still maintain the idea that only children within wedlock can succeed in life.

 

Anne Catherick is the Woman in White. In the novel, The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins, Anne’s character initially serves as the catalyst for many crucial events that occur. For example, when Walter first sees Anne, he is left with an overwhelming amount of curiosity. Then later, when Anne reacts negatively to Sir Percival, it serves as indication that he has evil tendencies, thus causing her to react this way. As the novel progresses, Anne is frequently looked to in hopes of providing information about certain tendencies or histories of other characters. Toward the end of the novel, it is even revealed that Laura and Anne are half-sisters. There is no question Anne’s role in the novel is vital.

However, despite Anne’s significance in the plot of The Women in White, she finds an untimely, and rather anticlimactic farewell. After hearing Percival’s aspiration to obtain her money in the event of her death, Laura becomes more unsettled and desperate than she already is. However, if Laura were to fake her death, she would then be released of her obligation as Glyde’s wife. Luckily, at this exact point in the novel, Anne becomes terminally ill and dies. Although Anne is the title character and many of the early plot points revolve around her, she coincidentally dies in a very non-extraordinary way. Further, no one is even aware that she has died, because it is stated that Laura has died instead. After everything, Anne was not even officialy awarded her own death. In Walter’s narration it is stated, “In the eye of reason and of law, in the estimation of relatives and friends, according to every received formality of civilised society, ‘Laura, Lady Glyde’ lay buried with her mother in Limmeridge churchyard” (413). The focus of the novel consistently revolved around Laura.

Since the novel was published, there have been copious interpretations and revisions, both in writing and in other art forms. One intriguing interpretation is the painting, The Woman in White (1871) by Frederick Walker. What is so fascinating about this piece, in particular, is the facial expression of the woman. The piece is very simple, and mundane. The colors incorporated are quite earthy and bland. However, the appearance of the woman is very frantic as she exits the room, as if she were running away from something. When looking at this painting, thoughts of Anne’s anticlimactic death resurface. In a painting such as this, perhaps ‘the woman in white’ is not Anne at all, but rather Laura. Could this interpretation be a depiction of Laura, disguised as Anne, finally able to run from Sir Percival? For it is realized that, regardless of Anne’s importance, the focus of the novel was always, ultimately, Laura.

In the article, “A Man’s Resolution: Narrative Strategies in Wilkie Collins’ The Woman in White” Pamela Perkins and Mary Donaghy parallel Laura’s emptiness of character with the concept of the ideal woman as an aesthetic object. Laura exists throughout the narrative as male property, which is exchanged through marriage transactions, disposed of through the forgery of her death, and in the end undergoes another marriage transaction only to ultimately benefit more men. Laura’s loss of agency and identity through male objectification is especially highlighted by Marian’s character, because she remains “[her] own mistress,” and in control of her own property by never being married off (258 Collins). Although Walter’s character exudes more superficial kindness and love towards Laura, his intentions are paralleled with Sir Percival and Count Fosco. He wishes to gain property, by having Laura as his wife, and thus he makes sure to mold her into the wife he desires. Laura exists as “a blank to be filled by male desire” and is used for “her ability to fit into the role of a charming and innocent young girl” (393 Donaghy). Laura’s character is portrayed as empty and dependent because all the characters, including Marian, need her to be that way so that they feel purposeful. Walter explains that he “is indebted to Marian’s courage” because “Laura’s brighter looks and better spirits told [him] how carefully she had been spared all knowledge,” and how carefully her growth had been stunted to maintain her childlike innocence and dependency on both Marian and Walter. Had Laura been exposed to all the details of the investigation Laura might have disagreed, or might have wanted to make decisions for herself. She may not have wanted to marry Walter after hearing about how Sir Percival died just inches beyond his reach. Walter or Marian could not bear the thought of Laura’s loss of innocence, because Marian could not cope with losing her purpose as a protector and Walter could not withstand losing his opportunity to possess two women and an estate. Thus, Laura is designated from birth to serve everyone else’s needs by remaining a piece of blank parchment, where Laura Fairlie’s life story is determined and narrated by everyone else but Laura.

The Woman in White ends with Laura Walter and Marian all living together at Limmerage without scandal. William Greg would likely argue that Marian is the “redundant” woman in this relationship as she is single and the other two characters are married to each other. This essay will attempt to refute the argument of Marian’s redundancy in the story though the examination of how Wilkie Collins deals with the three issues proposed by Greg regarding women’s redundancy and Marian’s complex role in the narrative that makes her appear both “redundant” and not redundant in comparison with other female characters.

Greg argues that English women remain “redundant” because of three factors: the lack of women who immigrated during the colonization period, men’s preoccupation with prostitutes, and women never being asked by a man to get married. Wilkie Collins deals with two of the three problems Greg proposes through the characters of Madame Fosco and Laura. Madame Fosco immigrates to Italy to marry the Count, solving issue one. Laura, in her marriage to both Sir Percival and Walter deals with men’s fascination with prostitutes. Sir Percival has an obsession with Anne before and after his marriage to Laura. Anne, while not a prostitute, becomes similar to a prostitute in the sense that she is a woman who distracts men from their marriage. This problem is fixed by his death and Laura’s remarriage to Walter. The third issue which Gregg points out is an issue, and potentially holds weight when we consider Marian’s status as a single woman.

Marian is one of the few, if not the only, female to remain single (and alive), throughout the entirety of the novel. No one asks Marian to marry her. However, there a few sentences on page 621 when Walter clumsily asks whether Marian intents to get married and she responds that, “…there can be no parting between [the three of] us” and “I will teach the children to speak for me in their language; and the first lesson they will say to their mother and father is – we can’t spare our aunt.” (621). In this case, Greg might argue that Marian takes on a role of governess for her sister and Walter and “while a noble profession” should still obtain a husband. Carolyn Dever would likely argue back that Marian does find a husband in Walter and a wife in Laura, but its likely Greg would not accept this. However, Marian also falls into the category which Greg allotted for, a woman who chooses to remain single rather than is forced to be single by circumstance.

Marian is redundant because she is a single woman but is also not because she chooses to be single. We can take on alternative perspectives like Dever, or call Marian a proto-feminist because she’d rather have children speak for her rather than a husband. Marian’s complex character complicates Greg’s overly deconstructed reasons as to why Victorian women were single.

In her chapter on Wilkie Collins’s unique variations on the standard marriage plot, Carolyn Dever discusses the ways in which Collins triangulates romantic relationships in The Woman in White: “The novel distributes the emotional intimacy ordinarily credited to marital love among three figures, rather than the conventional two” (113). Dever focuses her exploration of this idea on the novel’s most overt triangulated relationship—the relationship among Laura, Marian, and Walter. She asserts the relationship between the two sisters “is the novel’s most fully realized ‘marriage,’ if we consider marriage a union based on emotional depth, mutual trust, and the presumption of permanence” (114). While Marian functions as an emotional ‘spouse’ for Laura, Dever continues, she simultaneously serves as an intellectual, masculine ‘spouse’ for Walter: “Walter and Laura enter a marriage anchored by its essential bisexuality. Providing a masculine companion for Walter and a feminine one for Laura, Marian is a full partner in this marriage of three” (114). The novel contains ample support for Dever’s argument.

Laura and Marian share multiple scenes wherein emotions and thoughts are shared and accompanied by physical touch or gesture. For example, after Laura finally discloses some of the events of her unhappy honeymoon, the sisters embrace and ultimately kiss: “I had caught her in my arms, and the sting and torment of my remorse had closed them around her like a vice… How long it was before I mastered the absorbing misery of my own thoughts, I cannot tell. I was first conscious that she was kissing me…” (Collins 262). The impassioned embrace and comforting kiss that follow a scene of emotional intimacy, though not overtly sexual, do seem as though they are gestures that would typically come from a lover or a spouse. Similarly, Walter frequently confides in Marian, sometimes asking her advice or for her assistance in carrying out a plot or scheme. In the wake of Sir Percival’s death and the Count’s disconcerting visit to Laura, Marian, and Walter’s temporary London home, Walter turns to Marian for advice on how to protect Laura moving forward: ‘“I was guided by your advice in those past days,’ I said; ‘and now, Marian, with reliance tenfold greater, I will be guided by it again’” (558). Their exchange results in a plan to extract information from the Count as well as Laura and Walter’s marriage.

Though Dever is undoubtedly correct in pointing out Marian’s unusual, and possibly subversive, partnerships with Laura and Walter, I do think she fails to address one important fact that may limit the extent to which we can read this triangulated relationship as a challenge to traditional marriage. Since Marian is a woman, she does not pose a threat to the main legal purpose of marriage—inheritance. At the end of the novel, Walter happily allows Marian to “end our Story” with her introduction of Laura and Marian’s son as “Mr. Walter Hartwright—the Heir of Limmeridge (626-7). Marian’s presence in Laura and Walter’s relationship, while disrupting the institution’s traditional heteronormative binary, poses no threat to marriage’s perpetuation of patrilineal inheritance.

The character of Walter Hartright presented within the novel is one who forces the reader to believe that he is a man exceptionally different from Sir. Percival and Count Fosco. The reader is brought to believe that Walter is different from the other men due to the fact that he is an advocate for the women within the novel, rather than an oppressor. This image of Walter as an advocate for woman and possibly even a feminist is explored throughout the novel because of his actions. Walter is the only male character who actively assists the women in their quest for justice, trying to attain Laura’s true identity and ruin Sir Percival and Count Fosco for their wrong doings. When Walter runs into Anne Catherick on the road to London he points her in the right direction, “We met very late, and I helped you to find the way to London…..Take time to recover yourself-take time to feel quite certain that I am a friend. (pg95-96)” The reader, as well as the women within the novel are lead to believe that Walter is a friend, a trusted male individual who sets forth the best intentions for the women.

However, upon reading Perkins and Donaghy’s, “A Man’s Resolution: Narrative Strategies In Wiklie Collins’ The Woman in White” one can determine that Walter is no different from Fosco and Percival as Perkins states, “Walter proceeds to make Laura even more haze and less individualized…” Alike Fosco and Percival, Walter has a hidden agenda and casts a veiled patriarchal oppression towards the women within the novel. Walter does not help the woman or advocate for them solely because he believes they deserve justice, but because he wants to be the hero for these women, he wants to hold power over them just as much as the other men within the novel, but he approaches it in a different way. Walter’s oppression towards the women is initially overlooked due to his actions and words that projects him as a friend and advocate for the women. Upon revisiting the text through the lens of Perkins and Donaghy, Walter’s sensationalized reaction towards Anne Catherick is a moment that highlights him no different from the typical Victorian male. Despite Walter being a ‘friend’ towards Ann and leading her in the right direction towards London he is shocked at her discovery. When he first sees her he is dumbstruck because of the sight of a woman alone in the middle of the night is something unnatural for a woman within this time. Therefore Walter is perpetuating female oppression because he is so bewildered at the sight of lone Anne Catherick.